


A Christmas Surprise

by WinchesterWytch



Series: Best Christmas Ever [1]
Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: 18+ ONLY, Aftercare, D/s, F/M, First-time Domme, Fluff, Language, NSFW, Oral, Rough Sex, Smut, Sub Dean, Unprotected Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:57:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21829828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterWytch/pseuds/WinchesterWytch
Summary: Y/N decides to play Santa and give Dean a surprise Christmas present.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader
Series: Best Christmas Ever [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574350
Kudos: 4





	A Christmas Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: This is a rewrite of the original from July. Since the fic is so long, I turned it into a three part mini-series. AU
> 
> Credits: Special thanks to my ever-fabulous editor Candice, @cleighwrites. I couldn’t have finished this properly without her.

Y/N twirled in the center of the room, sighing happily as she hugged herself. It’s her favorite time of year and she is spending it in her favorite place, with the people she loves the most. Her new boyfriend, Dean Winchester, his brother Sam, and her two best friends Benny and Cas.

They’ve been at her cabin in Colorado for a week now, decorating and wrapping presents for the party. The four of them had helped her turn the great room into a winter wonderland of blues and silver. Fairy lights and greenery strung everywhere. It had taken two days to decorate the huge tree that Benny and Cas had located in the woods behind the house. It had taken all five of them to get it into place, the men grumbling the entire time. The final results were stunning though, and Y/N knew that they were just as proud of it as she was.

Last night had been exciting and fun, friends and family joining them for a Christmas Eve party, exchanging gifts, sharing stories, and making new memories. But today, Christmas Day, it’s just the five of them. A lazy day spent in their new pajamas she had gifted them, eating, drinking, and watching television. Y/N has one last gift to give Dean before the day is over, and she is both nervous and excited about it.

She makes her way to the media room, hearing the excited cheers and groans of disapproval as she draws nearer. Y/N pauses in the doorway to watch the group yelling at the large flat screen on the wall and smiles to herself. She had surprised them this morning with the new media room, making them each wear a blindfold as she had shepherded them down the hallway to the new space.

The football game is nearing half-time, so it’s time to put her plan in motion. Stepping further into the room, she notices a blindfold laying on the bar. She chuckles softly and whispers, ‘Perfect,’ to herself, and picks it up. She glides the cool, silky fabric between her fingers and makes her way over to the recliner Dean is stretched out in, his gaze focused on the screen in front of him.

Y/N runs a hand through his hair as she walks behind the chair, taking a seat on the armrest, her back to the TV. Dean smiles up at her before his eyes quickly flick back to the screen when he hears Sam shout, “No!”

She runs her fingers down his arm and then tugs at the waistband of his pajama pants. Dean shifts his gaze back away from the game and watches as she places the blindfold against his hip. The elastic waistband snaps back into place, leaving the fabric tucked at his hip like a dollar bill in a stripper’s thong. He raises an eyebrow and looks up at her.

Leaning into his ear, she whispers, “If you're a good boy for the rest of the day, Santa will show you just how bad a girl she can be.” Y/N chuckles at the dumbfounded look on his face, watching his throat bob as he swallows hard. Before he can say anything, she places a kiss at his temple, stands, and saunters out of the room. She can feel his eyes boring into her back and puts a little more sway into her hips.

Once she’s out of earshot, she lets out a nervous breath. “Christ, I can’t believe I just did that.” Giggling and full of nervous energy, she practically skips to the kitchen to finish cooking dinner. This is going to be the best Christmas ever.

All through dinner, she catches Dean staring at her, a smug smile on his face. By the time the meal is over, it feels like every nerve ending in her body has been pulled taut, ready to snap at the slightest touch. The guys insist on cleaning up since she did all the cooking.

Benny physically shoves her out of the room when she tries to help. “Go, cher. Relax, we’ve got this.”

Ha! If he only knew how wound up she is. He’s right about one thing though, she needs to relax, or she will never be able to pull this off. Aimlessly wandering around the cabin, she passes by the studio. Pausing, she reaches for the doorknob and steps into the room. Music always helps her calm down, to bring her clarity. She picks up one of the guitars and starts to pluck out a tune. A few minutes later she makes her way back to the great room, bringing the guitar with her.

* * *

* * *

Half an hour later, the kitchen is clean, and leftovers are stashed in the fridge for later. The friendly teasing and laughter between the four men dies down to a low rumble, as they hear the gentle strums of a guitar echo off the walls. Turning their heads trying to find the source, Sam finally points toward the living room. The group scurries out of the kitchen as she begins to sing.

Dean grinds to a halt at the top of the steps leading down to the large open space, the rest of the guys crashing into each other at the sudden wall in front of them. Sam earned an elbow in the ribcage, Cas running into him, propelling Sam’s body into Dean’s side. Sam grunts at the assault on his ribs and Dean gives him an irritated look while shushing him. The haunting lilt of her voice draws their attention back to her. She’s sitting on the floor, the only light coming from the strands of lights strung on the tree and throughout the room, which cast an ethereal glow around her.

Mesmerized, Dean slowly enters the space, not wanting to disturb her. The rest of the group silently follows, making their way to the opposite side of the room where they can see her better. It’s the first time he’s heard her perform since they met. She’s always singing or humming something, but it’s usually just bits and pieces of various tunes. This is different; this song means something to her. He can hear it in her voice, see it in the way she has completely shut out the rest of the world, oblivious to the audience now settled around her; she’s breathtaking. And damn, she plays the guitar too, will she ever cease to amaze him? She’s constantly keeping him on his toes, and it sends a thrill through his body thinking about what else she has in store for him.

* * *

* * *

The song ends, and the audience she didn’t realize she had explodes into applause and whistles. Startled, the guitar nearly slips from her hands, Y/N slides her arm around the body before it smacks against the floor. Glancing at the group from under her lashes, she flushes bright pink with embarrassment. Her eyes drift to Dean, and the way he’s looking at her takes her breath away. She has never seen such adoration and… love? Love, directed at her? She blinks and drops her head, shaking it. No, he couldn’t possibly feel that way about her already, they’ve only been together for about four months.

When she raises her head again, she avoids Dean’s gaze; instead, she focuses on Benny. Offering up the guitar to him, she smirks, “Your turn.” She’s thankful when he doesn’t put up a fight about it and starts playing one of her favorite carols.

The next hour or so is spent singing, drinking heavily-spiked eggnog, made by Sam, and just enjoying the time spent together. Realizing how late it’s getting to be, Y/N decides to call it a night. Sam’s eggnog has helped boost her courage, and she risks a glance at Dean out of the corner of her eye. He’s sitting opposite her on the floor, near the tree, legs stretched out in front of him, eyelids half closed. He looks so peaceful and relaxed that she debates on waiting until another evening to surprise him. He’s like a damn mind reader, though; before she can look away, his eyes snap open and drag over her body. When he makes his way back to meet her stare, he gives her a mischievous wink, licking his lips at the same time.

Trying to ignore the coil tightening low in her belly, she stands, stretching her arms above her head before letting them fall heavily to her sides. “Well, gentlemen, I think this has been the best Christmas ever.”

Cas chuckles, “You say that every year.” He bumps her shoulder with his as he walks up next to her.

Pouting, Y/N smacks his chest. “And, I mean it every year.”

He pulls her into a tight hug, kissing her temple, “Merry Christmas, love you.”

Y/N exchanges a hug with each of them, leaving Dean for last. As he leans in, she whispers, “Our room twenty minutes. Don’t forget this.” She taps the blindfold still tucked at his hip and feels his heart skip under her palm as she places a kiss on his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

He starts to balk, most likely not wanting to wait. She raises an eyebrow. “Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he sighs and then places a quick peck on her lips. “I’ll lock up and be there in a few.”

* * *

* * *

He stands outside their door exactly twenty minutes later, with only the briefest hesitation before he slips inside, quickly closing and locking it behind him. The only light is coming from a single bedside lamp and a couple of candles on her desk. He looks around the room searching for her, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness. When his gaze finally lands on her, his mouth drops open. It’s like a picture-perfect Hallmark movie.

She’s sitting in the window seat staring at the scene outside, snow is gently falling, and the moon is casting a soft halo around her. Her hair is piled on top of her head, several tendrils perfectly framing her face. A furry white blanket is wrapped around her body, and her legs are stretched out in front of her. They seem to shimmer in the moonlight, and he realizes that she is wearing stockings. He sucks in a breath when his gaze reaches her feet. She’s wearing those shoes. The ones she was wearing when they first met. The ones that make him want to fuck her every time he sees her in them.

He watches her drop her head for a moment, her shoulders relax as her chest rises with the deep breath she takes. She tilts her head to look at him, a soft smile playing on her lips. Standing, she walks to the center of the room, stopping just out of his reach, eyes never wavering from his. He can now see that what he thought was a blanket is actually a wrap, an ornate pin holding it in place. It’s draped around her shoulders leaving her neck and collarbone bare, falling to just above her knees, completely hiding what’s underneath.

Dean shifts nervously on his feet, looking away when he can no longer handle her intense stare. He hears her laugh, his eyes drift back to her face, and he follows her line of sight down to his hip. He grins when he notices she’s staring at the blindfold still tucked into his waistband.

* * *

* * *

Y/N takes the last few steps forward, putting her squarely in his space; she can feel the heat radiating off him. Her eyes meet his as she slowly reaches for the blindfold, his lips part and her heart rate jumps. Continuing to hold his stare, her fingers brush along his hip as she pulls the blindfold from his waistband; the fabric warm against her skin as she nervously twists it through her fingers.

She can feel the tension between them growing. Dean is bouncing on the balls of his feet now, impatiently waiting for her to make the first move. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips and she steps back as he begins to reach for her. Drawing up the courage to finally speak, her voice is shaky and low as she breathes out, “Do you trust me?”

There’s no hesitation when he replies, “yes.” The huskiness of his voice and the desire in his eyes gives her the encouragement she needs to proceed.

“Take your shirt off.” Her voice is stronger now, a slight edge to it. He smirks before reaching behind his head with one hand, he grabs the collar of his Henley, effortlessly pulls the shirt from his body, and lets it drop to his feet.

Tilting her head, she arches an eyebrow and huffs out a, “Huh.”

“What?” He looks nervous and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I always wondered if guys could honestly do that, or if it was just a move in fanfiction.”

“What? Wait, you read fanfic?” he teases.

“That whole one-handed over the head shirt removal thing.” She waves a finger in his direction. ”And don’t judge. There are some damn good writers out there.” Trying to get things back under control, she clears her throat and commands, “Now, strip.” The humor in his eyes is quickly replaced with surprise and then need; his body automatically responding to the tone of her voice.

She keeps her face blank as he slides the pajama bottoms over his hips, letting them pool at his ankles. Slipping his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, he takes his time pushing them down over his hips and thighs before finally letting them drop to the floor with the rest of his clothes. She watches the smirk creep across his face when he steps away from the pile of clothes and moves toward her. She can feel her heart pounding as she tries to maintain her composure.

When Dean stops mere inches from her, she finally, slowly, drops her gaze, inhaling sharply when she takes in the full magnitude of his sex appeal. He’s solid muscle, everywhere, it never ceases to take her breath away. She licks her lips and heat seeps through her body at seeing his impressive cock twitch in anticipation. She schools her features again and takes a couple of steps back so she can see his face when she asks, “Do you have a safeword?”

“Mudpie.” The corner of his lip twitches and she nods, acknowledging the inside joke between them. Their recent trip to Utah, getting stuck in the mud and their subsequent mud fight, came to mind. Y/N laughs a little remembering how hard it had been for both of them to clean the mud out of some unexpected places later.

Her nerves are starting to get the better of her, so she quickly turns away and walks toward the wall on the far side of her desk. Grabbing the handcuffs from the seat, she pulls the wooden chair behind her, positioning it about a foot or so from the end of the bed, facing it. She stands behind the chair and raises the handcuffs for Dean to see, asking, “You good with this?”

She holds back a laugh when he nods enthusiastically, hearing a soft grunt before he quickly clears his throat. “I need to hear you say it,” she instructs.

“Yeah.” She tilts her head, eyes demanding more. “Yes, I am good with it.”

* * *

* * *

Dean watches as she smiles broadly and gestures to the chair, he quickly takes a seat and immediately places his arms behind him.

Her laugh is deep and husky. “Such a good boy. So well trained.” Dean moans and preens at the praise. She flips the blindfold over his shoulder and orders, “Put this on.”

The blindfold slips easily over his head and the elastic snaps sharply behind his ears. His blood is pulsing through his veins, and goosebumps cover his skin. She hasn’t even touched him yet, and his mind is buzzing with anticipation. Dean adjusts the fabric to cover his eyes completely and returns his hands behind his back. When Y/N’s fingers brush against his wrist to secure the handcuffs, his body thrums with electricity coursing through every last nerve.

Her warm breath fans his cheek as she whispers in his ear, “Too tight?”

He moves his arms, testing the cuffs. He hums with pleasure when he realizes they are real and not some cheap toy that could be easily broken. He nods his approval and shifts slightly to get more comfortable.

“Use your words,” she commands; just the tone of her voice makes his cock jump.

“It- it’s perfect.” He feels her fingers drag through his hair, gently scratching his scalp. Pushing his head into her palm, he moans happily. She ruffles his hair before pulling away.

He hears her laugh nervously. “I suppose this wouldn’t be the best time to tell you I’ve never done this before.”

“Are you kidding me?” he asks, both equally shocked and concerned.

“Well, I- I’ve always wanted to try, but never felt comfortable enough with anyone else.” The next words come rushing from her mouth. “I did some research, watched some videos.”

Muscles twitching nervously, he asks, “What _kind_ of videos?” He’s seen plenty of _those_ videos. Y/N is smart and he trusts that she won’t intentionally hurt him, but he knows things can go horribly wrong, very quickly, if she doesn’t understand what she’s doing.

“All kinds. There’s some pretty intense stuff out there, some of it was pretty hard to watch.” He shifts nervously in his seat and clenches his jaw as she tries to reassure him. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to try any of that, I just wanted to have you tied up and at my mercy. You just have to be sure to tell me if I’m doing something wrong.” He can hear the concern in her voice and pictures her chewing her bottom lip.

He takes a steadying breath and leans forward, “Well, sweetheart, you’re doing a damn good job so far.”

“Really?!” He hears the relief and excitement in her voice.

“Really.” Dean sits back. “Let’s get this show back on the road.”

He hears her take in a breath. “Okay, here we go. Spread your legs,” she demands.

Dean does as he’s told, spreading his legs wide and wrapping his ankles around the chair legs to help keep them in place. He hears her hum of approval and the click of her heels as she moves to stand in front of him. Then there’s nothing but silence.

* * *

* * *

Y/N can’t help but gape at the Adonis of a man displayed in front of her. Arm and leg muscles pulled taut, the perfectly tousled hair, plump pink lips, a galaxy of freckles dotting his skin, and his cock bobbing in anticipation. Gulping, she breathes out low, “Fuck me.”

“Whatever you desire.” His reply is soft, just a hint of cheekiness; such a contrast to the self-assurance normally oozing from his voice.

She bites back a nervous laugh realizing that she could get very used to seeing him like this; seeing him compliant and waiting to be controlled. She sucks in a breath and then says sternly, “No more talking unless you’re asked a direct question.” He nods, and she quickly adds. “Or, if you need to use your safeword.” Placing a hand against his cheek, she asks, “Are we good?”

Y/N lets him lean into her touch as he replies, “We’re good.” Lightly patting his cheek, she hears him whine as she pulls away. She’d been avoiding touching him. She knew the moment she let her hands roam his body, that she’d be a goner. But, staring at his throbbing cock, she can’t hold back any longer.

He flinches, startled, when her hands come to rest on his chest. Her lips brush lightly across his, and she feels him relax again. She deepens the kiss and his lips part, letting her tongue swipe into him. He tastes amazing, and she wants more. Moving closer, she rests a knee between his legs on the chair, leaning into him. His tongue dances with hers and her fingers curl into his skin as he steals more of her breath with each passing second. The skin under her fingers feels like it’s on fire. He smells amazing, and the sound of his moan makes her nerve endings spark.

She pulls away gasping for air, his lips chasing after hers. She removes her knee from the chair as her hands start to roam his body. Y/N leans back in to place light kisses along his jawline, relishing the feel of his scruff scratch at her skin. She feels him tense when she nips at the soft spot behind his ear. “Feel good, pretty boy?” she whispers before dragging her tongue across each collarbone, her nails scraping down his ribcage.

Dean’s strangled, “Y- yes,” makes her chuckle.

She licks her lips. “Mmm, you taste so good. I wonder if you taste this good all over?” Her fingers graze the tops of his thighs, and she feels his muscles tense. Y/N lowers her head to his chest and swirls her tongue around a nipple before sucking it into her mouth. He throws his head back with a groan, his body shifts, hips sliding forward, trying to press into her.

“Sit still,” she admonishes, smacking the inside of his thigh. A moan emanates from low in his chest, reverberating through her bones and making her clench around nothing.

She sucks on the hardened nub a few seconds longer, grazing her teeth over the sensitive skin as she lets go. “Such a good boy. You make the most amazing sounds. Let’s see what kind of noises I can pull from those pretty lips of yours.” He whimpers when she takes the other nipple in her mouth, giving it the same loving attention. Y/N’s hands continue to roam his body, nails dragging across his skin, her tongue following in their wake. He whines and moans her name; grunts and whimpers pass through his sinful mouth. It’s a heady feeling, having this kind of control, knowing that she can pull these sounds from him, make him squirm under her touch. Her fingers press deep into the muscles of his shoulders as her teeth graze his earlobe.

She hears a broken, “Y/N/N, please.” His breath hot as it ghosts over her cheek.

She pinches hard at the soft skin of his inner thigh, and he jerks his leg away. “No talking! I’ve got you.” She has yet to touch his cock, but looking at the throbbing appendage now, she realizes how painful it must be, the tip is flushed a deep red from holding back. He really is amazing.

Squatting in front of him, she runs her tongue along his inner thigh, blows a cooling breath over the reddened skin where she’d pinched him, and smiles when he whimpers. “Santa will take care of her good little boy.”

Standing, she backs away, giving herself a moment to catch her breath and Dean whines again at the loss of her touch. The sound goes straight to her core. She can feel her slick begin to soak her panties. She watches his muscles tremble, his teeth sunk deep into his lower lip, trying to maintain control.

* * *

* * *

Dean’s not sure how much longer he can hold out. His cock is aching for release, almost painful with need. He shifts his head from side to side, trying to find her, listening for any small sound to indicate where she may be. His labored breaths the only sound filling the stillness of the room. He has a momentary sense of panic, and if she hadn’t pressed her hands down on his thighs first, holding him in place, he would have knocked the chair over backward when he felt her lick up the length of his shaft. He hadn’t heard her move to kneel in front of him.

“Son of a bitch!” he yelps, before pressing his lips together to keep from speaking again.


End file.
